Work Text:
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, for December in Monaco.
Charles was curled on the couch under Max's oversized hoodie, scrolling past yet another article titled "Norris Crowned 2025 World Champion."
He pretended not to look upset every time a photo from Abu Dhabi popped up: the one of Max on the top step, P1 trophy in hand, with Oscar to his right, smiling like it hurt.
Oscar sat on the floor with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, controller in hand but unmoving. He'd stopped actually playing the game fifteen minutes ago. Maybe twenty.
He'd led the championship. He'd led it for more than half the season.
Then McLaren decided strategy was a myth.
Abu Dhabi was just the final punch.
Charles kept glancing at Oscar. Oscar kept pretending he didn't see.
Max was late. Which meant trouble.
Charles exhaled shakily through his nose. "He's probably… picking up dinner, or - "
The door slammed open.
Max Verstappen kicked it open with the force of a man who had absolutely lost a championship and also the plot.
"I'm home!" he announced.
Under his arms: six pumpkins, two gingerbread men, one very large gingerbread skeleton, three bags of fake cobwebs, and -
"Is that a scarecrow?" Oscar whispered.
Charles got up like a man approaching a dangerous animal. "Max, mon amour, why do you look like you robbed a Halloween store?"
Max grinned so widely it borderlined on unhinged. "Let's celebrate Halloween!"
Oscar blinked. Charles blinked harder. One of the pumpkins rolled under the couch.
"Max," Charles said in the tone he normally reserved for Ferrari engineers. "It is December. We have Christmas lights outside. What is happening?"
Max pointed around dramatically. "We're making Decemberween."
Silence. Charles stared. Oscar stared. Jimmy, Sassy, Nino, Leo, and Basil all judged silently.
"…chéri," Charles tried again. "It is December. Décembre. We are closer to Christmas than the last Grand Prix. What the hell is all this?"
Max dumped the pumpkins onto the floor, one rolling dramatically until it hit Charles' foot. "I don't care. I don't want any sad stuff around this house." He gestured wide. "Halloween. Fun. Distractions. Boom."
Charles pointed at the plastic skeleton folded under Max's arm. "You brought decorations from the scary holiday."
Max's grin was immediate. "Nothing scarier than driving your SF-25."
Oscar snickered. Charles raised an eyebrow. "Correction," he snapped, "nothing stupider than that tractor you call a - "
Oscar stage-whispered to Sassy: "And they say I'm dramatic."
Max did not reply verbally. Instead, he held a pumpkin up like a trophy.
When Oscar went to his room to get his phone, Charles' voice came, lacking its teasing edge. "…Max," he said quietly. "You're doing this for him."
Max didn't answer with a joke. He just planted a kiss on Charles' forehead.
Oscar meanwhile, had snapped a photo of Max holding a pumpkin like a trophy and sent it to the rookies.
Maximilian's ducklings
me:
look what just walked in
[photo of Max proudly holding a pumpkin]
charlos joint custody case:
WHAT THE HELL WHY ARE YOU CELEBRATING HALLOWEEN WITHOUT US
gabi adopt-me-max bortoleto:
IF YOU START CARVING WITHOUT ME I'LL SUE
charlos joint custody case:
IM ON MY WAY DONT START WITHOUT ME
gabi adopt-me-max bortoleto:
I WANT A PUMPKIN. SAVE ME A BIG ONE LAST TIME YOU GUYS GAVE ME A DENTED ONE
toto's problem (not mine):
I am in Brackley. STOP DOING HAPPINESS WITHOUT ME
me:
you chose to be there
toto's problem (not mine):
GEORGE FORCED ME TO BE HERE.
AWAY FROM MY MAX
charlos joint custody case:
kimi we talked about accepting the consequences of YOUR decisions
toto's problem (not mine):
oliver no
rookie but with brain cells:
why is nobody questioning celebrating Halloween in dec???????????
gabi adopt-me-max bortoleto:
isack mate dont question it
rookie but with brain cells:
max is insane
toto's problem (not mine):
HEY THATS OUR DAD YOURE CALLING UNSTABLE
charlos joint custody case:
and your teammate next year @rookie but with brain cells 😉
gabi adopt-me-max bortoleto:
im soooo jealous
toto's problem (not mine):
me toooooooo
charlos joint custody case:
me 3
rookie but with brain cells:
send pics tho 😊
"Uh…" Oscar looked up. "Ollie and Gabi are coming."
Max fist-pumped. "YES. More hands to carve pumpkins."
Charles threw his hands in the air. "Max, mon dieu, is that peppermint-flavored fake blood?"
Max mouthed maybe.
Oscar had barely put his phone down before the doorbell rang like someone was leaning on it. Ollie and Gabi burst through the door like two overcaffeinated golden retrievers.
"What - what exactly is this?" Ollie asked, staring at the pumpkin pyramid.
"Max had a breakdown," Oscar explained casually.
"I did not," Max said, decorating the Christmas wreath with fake cobwebs. "I'm enriching the holiday."
Ollie pulled his phone out and Carlos, dressed in full winter-gear appeared on screen, "Charles, I don't care what you guys are up to but Ollie requires supervision while using knives."
Charles pinched his nose. "He does not need supervision."
"Yes he does!" Carlos yelled from the FaceTime. "Cariño, I'm telling you, I saw him this morning - he tried to microwave a fork."
"It was ONE TIME," Ollie hissed, mortified.
Kimi too joined the FaceTime. "Max, why are you celebrating holidays without me? Am I not your son too?"
Max put a hand on his hip. "You said Toto dragged you to the factory."
"That was before you did Decemberween," Kimi muttered.
George's voice drifted from Kimi's background. "Max, stop enabling him, he's supposed to be concentrating."
"I AM CONCENTRATING," Kimi yelled, "ON MY PAIN. ON THE LACK OF INCLUSION."
Gabi whispered to Oscar: "He's so dramatic he fits right into the family."
Oscar snorted. "He's Max's and George's kid. Of course he's dramatic."
🎁 🕸️๋࣭ ⭑🎃☃️🦌
Soon the apartment devolved into complete chaos.
Mariah Carey played (because Carlos had sent over a curated playlist to Charles and the latter refused to turn it off in December). Max played horror soundtrack music simultaneously from his phone. The combination was… unsettling.
Gabi poked a gingerbread man. "Why do they have tiny ghost sheets?"
Max shrugged. "Season-accurate. Everyone ghosted consistency this year."
Charles choked on air.
Ollie stabbed into a pumpkin. "I'm carving Lando's smile after he won. Top horror moment of 2025."
Charles and Max argued in rapid-fire French vs Dutch about whether the gingerbread skeleton needed internal structural reinforcement ("Max, it will collapse!" "Charles stop engineering the cookie!")
Kimi sent a photo of him, in full Mercedes team kit, with the caption:
crying screaming throwing up bc im not there
Gabi carved what looked suspiciously like a McLaren. "Why is this car shaped like a triangle - ?"
"That's because aerodynamically - " Oscar began automatically. Then stopped.
Ollie tried to summon Decemberween spirits with scented candles labeled Ginger Frost.
Charles solo-attempted a perfectly symmetrical design and failed within five minutes.
Max was watching Oscar carefully crafting a "Decemberween 2025" sign with glitter glue when noticed the kid's knuckles. They were red. Pressed too tight.
Max didn't say anything.
Not yet.
🎁 🕸️๋࣭ ⭑🎃☃️🦌
Eventually, Oscar got up to grab drinks and snacks from the kitchen.
Max followed a minute later, quietly slipping in behind him.
Oscar was pouring juice, brow furrowed, shoulders hiked. The kid never made noise when he was stressed, he just folded inward.
"Hey," he said.
Oscar didn't look up. "It's fine."
"No. It's not."
Oscar swallowed. "I had a great season. But I lost the championship. I lost it. Everyone's saying I bottled it. I was leading and then - "
"You didn't lose it." Max's voice was firm. "And people are stupid."
Oscar's breath hitched.
Max continued, gentler. "You did everything right. More than right. And you still got hurt. And that's why I hate seeing you like this."
Oscar set the carton down with shaking fingers. "I know. I know. I just… I keep thinking if I pushed a little more, or took fewer risks, or - "
"No." Max stepped closer. "Listen to me. You were good enough. More than good enough. You deserved better. Better than the clown-show of a team of yours."
Oscar turned, eyes glassy. "You think so?"
"I know so," Max said.
Oscar exhaled shakily. "It just feels stupid to still be upset."
"It's not stupid." Max stepped closer, resting a steady hand on Oscar's shoulder. "You fought for something huge. And you almost had it. It's okay to hurt. But it's going to be okay."
"And even if you had lost it on your own - " Max continued gently " - I would never be disappointed in you."
Oscar finally - finally - let the wall crack.
Just a little.
"Thanks, Max."
"Anytime," Max said. Then he brightened. "Now come carve a pumpkin. A happy pumpkin. Or an angry pumpkin. Whatever therapeutic pumpkin you want."
Oscar laughed. And something in Max unclenched at the sound.
Charles, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, shoved a bowl of candy corn into Oscar's hands. "All for you. Holiday candies doesn't add to the calories."
Ollie, who heard nothing but still sensed the moment, loudly announced from the hall. "OKAY WHO WANTS TO SEE MY MASTERPIECE - "
Charles shoved a handful of candy corn in his mouth. "Shhh. Quiet time for five seconds."
🎁 🕸️๋࣭ ⭑🎃☃️🦌
Later, when the pumpkins were all done, some beautiful, some cursed, some traumatizing, Oscar declared: "Group photo!"
Gabi instantly climbed onto Max's shoulders. "HEIGHT ADVANTAGE."
Ollie slung an arm around Charles like an affectionate drunk toddler. "DAD NUMBER TWO, HOLD ME."
"I am - fine," Charles muttered, hugging him.
Oscar set the camera timer. Kimi appeared on tablet, held up by George against his will. Carlos joined on another tablet propped against a pumpkin stack, bundled in winter gear like he was livestreaming from Antarctica.
"Make sure I'm in the center," Kimi demanded.
"You're on a screen, Kimi," George's voice echoed.
"CENTER."
Charles stood tucked at Max's side, arms around his waist; Oscar slid in front, leaning back into both of them; Gabi's hands were on Max's shoulders with a bat-shaped candy bucket; Ollie held Kimi's tablet like the world's unhappiest family portrait; George tried to escape frame but Kimi grabbed his hair; Carlos was mid-yell, hat sliding off; Max lifted the giant gingerbread skeleton like a trophy.
Oscar hit the timer.
It was stupid. It was perfect.
Oscar stared at it for a moment too long.
Charles saw it first. "You okay?"
Oscar nodded, tears not quite falling. "Yeah. I think… I think I am."
It didn't erase Abu Dhabi, not even close, but something in him felt lighter, like the bruise he'd been carrying around all month finally softened at the edges.
Max ruffled his hair. "Good. Then Decemberween is officially a success."
Charles rolled his eyes, but he leaned up and kissed Max anyway.
"And next year?" Gabi asked.
Max smirked. "Next year… Easter in August."
Gabi and Ollie screamed.
Oscar groaned. "I live with clowns."
Gabi yelled "GROUP HUG ROUND TWO," and threw himself onto all three of them.
Oscar got buried somewhere in the middle.
And for the first time since Abu Dhabi, they all laughed.
🎁 🕸️๋࣭ ⭑🎃☃️🦌
That night, Charles curled against Max in bed and exhaled, the kind of tired sound he usually only made after debriefs.
"I hate this season," he admitted quietly. "I hate seeing him hurt. And… I hate how familiar it feels." His fingers tightened a little on Max's shirt, just for a second. "I didn't win anything either," he added, voice soft but honest. "But tonight… at least there was joy."
Max huffed a tiny laugh. "Didn't seem like you hated the season when you tried to drown me with champagne in Mexico."
Charles lifted his head just enough to glare at him. "That was different."
Max smirked. "You enjoyed it a bit too much, huh?"
A small mischievous smile tugged at Charles' lips. "Oh, I'll do it again. Next year. And the year after. And the year after. And so on."
Max chuckled. "Provided Ferrari gives you a competitive car."
Charles dropped his head back onto Max's chest with a dramatic sigh. "Every year I think our car cannot get any worse, and every year - mon dieu." He waved a hand like the mere memory offended him. "So yes. I will be drowning you in champagne annually. For stress relief."
Max snorted. "You know what? Tell Ferrari they need to add an emotional damage clause in Lewis' contract."
Charles blinked, then gave a scandalized snort-laugh. "Pourquoi? He just got here."
"Exactly," Max said bluntly. "Save the man. You've built up immunity. He hasn't."
Charles groaned into his chest. "Don't remind me."
For a second he was quiet, voice muffled. Then, almost childlike in defeat, he whispered, "I hate this sport."
Max pressed a kiss into his hair. "Nah, you don't. Because you're crazy and love to drown me and try to defeat me every season. Every race.”
"Hmm." Charles gave a tiny, sleepy huff of amusement. "You did something good today," he murmured.
Max kissed his forehead. "He needed a win. If I couldn't give him the championship, I could at least give him this."
Charles smiled against him, drifting. "You gave him more than pumpkins, amore mio."
Max held him closer. And as Charles finally slipped into sleep, Max whispered into the dark. "He'll be okay. We all will."